by Ike Hamill
“So we make another appointment with Prewalski?” Alan asked.
The doctor nodded. “Yes. Any other questions?”
“Is it really this easy?” Liz asked. “We were so tensed for bad news.”
The doctor smiled. “Then that makes today a particularly good day.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Moving
NOVEMBER 2
“I’M ALL set,” Joe said.
“Do me a favor,” Liz said. “Go back in there and check every drawer, look under the bed, look through the bathroom, and behind the dresser. I want you to leave no stone unturned. When you’re done, leave this on the nightstand.”
She handed Joe a folded twenty-dollar bill.
“And lock this door behind yourself.”
Liz shut the door that joined the two rooms and turned to Alan.
“Are we doing the right thing?”
“Yeah,” Alan said. “I think so. We can’t live out of a hotel forever, and since Joe’s going back to school on Monday, it makes sense. If something goes wrong tonight or tomorrow, we’ll just get in the car and drive. We won’t stop until we hit San Diego.”
Liz smiled. “We really dodged a bullet with him.”
“No,” Alan said, “we didn’t. That bullet hit us right in the chest. We found a miracle cure. Let’s not revise the past or deny what happened.”
“Something happened. We’ll never know for sure if Joe had cancer or…”
Alan cut her off. “Let’s not argue that again. Please?”
“Fine,” Liz said. “Do we have everything?”
She bent down and lifted the bedspread.
“We have the important stuff,” Alan said. “Who cares about the rest?”
Liz stood and turned to Alan. They embraced.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Spring
APRIL 27
“DYLAN SAYS there are only two seasons up here—winter and mud season,” Joe said.
It was a warm spring day. Alan was sweating a little beneath his flannel shirt and it felt wonderful. He’d felt woefully unprepared for the deep snow, short days, and bitter cold of winter, but a beautiful day like this made him feel like he’d accomplished something in the act of surviving the snow. They’d planned this hike for a week. Joe and Alan wanted to go check up on the beavers out back. The beaver dam had been washed out last fall, but Alan thought they might still find a souvenir of the builders.
“That’s because he goes back to New York every summer. He doesn’t get to enjoy the full Maine summer like we do. You know, there’s a reason why so many people choose to vacation up here,” Alan said.
“Because it’s cheap?” Joe asked.
Alan laughed.
“Exactly.”
Alan stopped and unbuttoned his cuffs so he could roll up his sleeves. Joe picked a long piece of yellow grass and chewed on the end. They were almost to the bottom of the hill. They already had cold mud up to their shins and they weren’t even halfway to their destination.
“Do you mostly hang out with boarders at your school?” Alan asked. Joe had switched in January to a private school. His new school was about seventy percent boarders—kids who lived at the school from September to June—and thirty percent locals. Joe mostly talked about his friend Dylan, who spent the summer months at his real home down in New York City.
“No,” Joe said. “Not really. Most of them complain too much. They’re always talking about how much better it is where they’re from. But most of the day students do that too.”
“Really? What do the day students have to complain about?”
“Most of them are like us. Their families just moved here in the past few years. So a lot of them just talk about where they used to live.”
“Oh,” Alan said. He had hoped that private school would bring more of Joe’s focus to learning, and less to the politics of classmates. It seemed to have the opposite effect.
“But I like Dylan,” Joe said. “He talks about New York, but he doesn’t always say bad stuff about Maine.”
“That’s good,” Alan said.
The marsh trail was actually easier than slogging through the woods. The grass gave a solid platform to walk on, and they didn’t sink down with each step. The beavers had restored order to their little pond. Alan stopped at the edge and looked down at the cold water. Joe hunted around and then found a rock to skip across the surface. His first throw cleared the pond in three hops.
“Good one,” Alan said.
“Isn’t that Mr. Franz?”
“Where?” Alan asked. He shielded his eyes with his hand.
“Hey there,” Bob called from across the pond.
Alan watched as his friend picked his way across the new beaver dam and came around to their position.
“Hi, Bob,” Alan said. “Nice day, huh?”
“Beautiful,” Bob said. “I called your cell. Liz picked up and said you’d be down here.”
Alan patted his pockets. “I knew I forgot something.” He smiled.
“I was hoping you could pick up my mail for a few days. I have to go take a meeting.”
“Of course,” Alan said. “No problem. I’ll just leave it on your counter?”
“Perfect,” Bob said.
“Good meeting or bad meeting?”
“Good. Could be very good, actually. One of my projects might start production this fall. It’s something I’ve been waiting on for awhile, so I’m excited. We’re meeting with the money guys down in Boston. I should be back by Thursday at the latest.”
“Congratulations, and good luck,” Alan said. “Hey, Joe, I bet you didn’t realize that Bob is a famous director.”
“Really?” Joe asked. He straightened up and paused his search for another flat rock.
“Not famous enough that I don’t have to beg for money to make a movie,” Bob said, laughing. “But I guess that’s most of us.”
“Cool,” Joe said.
“You have any prospective buyers coming in this week? Do you need me to let anyone in?”
“No,” Bob said. “Actually, I’ve decided to take the place off the market. The more I thought about it, the winter up here wasn’t so bad. I never thought I would enjoy that much snow, but I really did.”
“So you’re staying?” Alan asked. A smile spread across his face. At the end of October, Alan felt that he owed Bob more than he could ever express. After only knowing his family for a couple of months, Bob had risked his own life to help Alan and Liz care for their son, and he had done it without question. But, even more than that, over the winter Bob had become a close friend. He came over on Wednesday nights for dinner, and when they could find a sitter, Bob sometimes went out with Liz and Alan to the movies. In a few short months, Alan began to think of Bob as his first real friend as an adult. He wasn’t a friend through work, or someone he only saw at holiday parties, or an old friend from college. Alan was thrilled that his friend wasn’t moving away quite so soon.
“Yeah, I’m going to keep that house,” Bob said. “I’ve got a lot of work in it. Obviously, my job will take me away for months at a time, but this will be my home base.”
“That’s great,” Alan said.
“What did you guys decide?” Bob asked, lowering his voice.
“Hey, Joe,” Alan said. “That’s the beaver dam over there. Why don’t you see if there’s a short stick with chew marks on it.”
“Okay,” Joe said.
Alan waited for Joe to move out of earshot before he answered.
“You know how stressful the holidays were for Liz. Of the relatives who did show up, half of them seemed resentful and the other half seemed like they were trying to loot the place. I swear, after Christmas I thought she was going to burn the place down and collect the insurance,” Alan said.
Bob nodded.
“But she’s really turned the corner in the past month or so. All of the living Prescotts seem to have moved away, and we’ve accounted for all the bones mentioned in the
book. As for the house—I love the place, now that I’m allowed to make changes. After I get everything done this summer, that house is going to be really livable. Joe’s doing great in his new school, and Liz is really starting to make strides at work. I think that house is really going to work for us. I never would have believed it last November, but I think I really understand why Liz loves that place so much. It feels like home.”
Bob smiled.
“I guess we’ll be neighbors for awhile then,” Bob said.
Joe ran up with a short length of wood. It was a little more than a foot long and three or four inches in diameter.
“They chewed this one at both ends. Do you think we could cut it off?” Joe asked Alan.
“Sure,” Alan said. “Maybe we don’t need to though.” Alan turned to Bob. “Joe’s doing an oral report on nature’s architects. He’s looking for a visual aid.”
“Nice,” Bob said. “I’ve got to get going. Thanks for picking up my mail.”
“No problem,” Alan said. “Good luck with your meeting.”
“Thanks,” Bob said. “Good luck with your report, Joe.” He began the process of finding a dry path back across the beaver dam.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Fall
SEPTEMBER 27
“AGAIN,” BOB said. “You’re welcome to my place. I won’t be back until the middle of December. Actually, you’d be doing me a favor. I’m just going to worry about that new roof on the garage.”
“If you didn’t let Alan help you with these things, you wouldn’t have to worry about them so much,” Liz said.
Bob laughed. They were sitting at the little kitchen table of the old farmhouse. Liz was waiting for Alan and Joe to finish packing. Bob was there to say goodbye.
Alan poked his head around the corner from the dining room. “I can hear you, you know,” Alan said.
Liz waved and smiled.
“We really appreciate the offer Bob, but honestly, your place isn’t quite far enough away. I have no plans to be in this zip code again until after Halloween.”
“That’s understandable,” Bob said.
“Maybe some day,” Liz said. “Maybe some day when Joe is grown up and has moved away, I’ll take the chance that those things aren’t coming back. For now, I’ll just assume that this place is off-limits in October.”
“The book suggested that the bones of the ancestors were crucial. Alan got rid of all those bones in the attic, right? It might be safe to stay.”
“Nope,” Liz said. “We had a long talk about it. Alan and I decided that we have enough money to rent a nice place for the month, so we might as well do it. We’re actually going to be living just a mile from one of Joe’s classmates. Alan will drop him off at his friend’s house and then Joe will get to ride to school in a Bentley every day, if you can believe that. Alan offered to alternate days on taking the boys to school. The mom took one look at Alan’s Toyota and I thought her heart would stop. It was priceless.”
Alan walked in with a bag slung over his shoulder and a big bag in each hand.
“This is the last of it, I think,” Alan said.
“Is there anything left upstairs?” Liz asked. “Or did you gut the place and stuff it into bags?”
“Darling, I’ll remind you that one of these bags is filled entirely with hair products and shoes,” Alan said. “Care to guess how much of that stuff is mine?”
Bob laughed and Liz quickly changed the subject.
“Joe! Let’s go,” Liz said.
“You should see this place we’re renting, Bob,” Alan said.
“I wish I could,” Bob said. “Actually, I should head out now. I have to get some equipment through airport security. It could take extra time.”
“I’ll check up on your place whenever I can, and we will see you soon,” Alan said. He put out his hand for Bob to shake.
X • X • X • X • X
“Wait, hold on for a second,” Alan said.
Liz stopped the car near the mailbox. The house looked small and cute and clean. Nothing about the place, even the ornamental tree sitting in the center of a little mound of mulch, looked more than ten years old. Joe had his face pressed against the back window, trying to see the neighbor’s house through the bushes. Alan’s old Toyota was parked off to the side, leaving enough room for Liz to squeeze into the garage.
“What are you doing?” Liz asked.
“Just hold on a second,” Alan said. He was fiddling with his phone.
“Can we rent this place in the winter so we can be closer to the ski slopes?”
“No,” Liz said. “This place costs a fortune in the winter, Joe. The only reason we can afford it now is because we’re after summer and before ski season. We’re staying here for October and that’s it.”
“Okay, ready?” Alan asked.
“Yes!” Liz and Joe said at the same time.
“Ta-da!” Alan said. He hit a button on his phone. The lights in the house came on.
“Wow,” Liz said. “Isn’t that cool, Joe?”
“I guess,” Joe said.
“We’ve lost him,” Liz said. “Used to be he would think that kind of thing was cool.” She pulled the car towards the garage. “Can you use that app to open the garage door?”
“Yes,” Alan said. “Ta-da!” he said again. The door rumbled up.
Liz pulled in. The garage was spotless. There was an empty rack for skis and snowboards on the wall. On the right, a bin held two big garbage cans that looked like they’d never been used.
“Clean, new, and no history,” Alan said.
Liz smiled and turned to Alan. “Perfect.”
X • X • X • X • X
Ike Hamill
October 31st, 2013
Topsham, Maine
ABOUT MIGRATORS
THANK YOU for reading Migrators. If you enjoyed it, I hope you’ll take a second (and it really only takes a second) to leave a review on Amazon. I grew up looking forward to vacations at the Colonel’s house described in this story. The house and the area always fascinated me, and there always seemed to be something beyond understanding out in those woods. This book grew out of that fascination. Please drop me a line at [email protected] if you have questions, comments, or complaints. Sign up for the newsletter at ikehamill.com and I’ll send you a free copy of my next book when it’s published. Happy reading!
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